


Retrospective

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pokemon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hates the past because second-best isn't good enough; he hates the past because second-best hurts, even when it is enough. [A collection of PanderShipping drabbles.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrospective

**Author's Note:**

> Ten drabbles. Part of a collection of drabbles called Boxes of Chocolates. Enjoy.

"Green, wait!"

Misty's raised voice is no use to her on that empty forest path, of course. The boy is already a speck in the distance. His strides are long, and the redhead who follows behind him has to run to make herself audible.

Finally, he turns, emerald eyes illuminated in the moonlight. "Hmm?" He doesn't even open his mouth with the gesture, and his hands are shoved into his pockets like he's lounging against the counter in some out-of-the-way bar. She supposes that he must think he's quite cool. However, he's probably entitled to that assumption, since he is a gym leader just like her and he's had fangirls since he was twelve. In fact, she's small fry, in comparison.

"You forgot something." She holds out the jacket, which is colored a plain green. She almost snorted, when she first realized that half of his clothing was one of three colors (black, purple, green); everything about this guy seems so complicated on the surface, but in the end, he's so simple to understand. Just a color and a goal and a rival, and that's all you have to understand, like clockwork.

He cocks an eyebrow, and she resists laughing aloud when she realizes that this is the first facial expression she's seen on that impassive, stonelike face. "Oh, thanks."

"Don't mention it." She realizes that she has stepped into a beam of moonlight as she reaches out, the garment in her arms. "You know, we only ever see each other at these annual gym leader events…" she scowls slightly, not sure what her traitor mouth will tell him. Luckily, it settles on a bit of humor, a bit of insult; if he's the man she thinks he is, then he can take it. "You get out much?"

Another expression ('two expressions in one night?' she thinks incredulously, turquoise eyes sparking); this time, the corner of his mouth twinges up in slight amusement. "Only when I have to. You know how brutal women can be sometimes." Eyes meet (in that silver moonlight) and then glance away, hurriedly embarrassed. Yes, he knows something, and so does she.

For the first time, she realizes that they have something in common besides a job title and a brain capacity that exceeds that of an infant farfetch'd. She wonders, vaguely, who  _he_  has lost.

Then it ends, and she sees the spark fade and disappear, like a bonfire dying with the moonlight.

"Yes, I know," she comments dryly, glancing away. "Take care, okay? Don't be a stranger." She pretends, for just a few seconds, that they have ever been more than just strangers.

"Sure." And he's walking again, out of the moonlight and into the dark forest, though undeterred by the howling of a beast within. After all, it's Viridian Forest, and he knows this place like the back of his hand.

And Misty's left watching the place in the air where he was but isn't anymore, and she sighs nostalgically as she realizes, for the  _second_  time, that she's met a boy – a nice, genuinely good boy who's more than just a waste of time – on this moonlit path.


End file.
